


To Feel No Shame

by allantwitty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grocery Store, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bagger Dean, Dean Loves Taylor Swift, Fluff, Grocery Store, Librarian Castiel, M/M, Music, Shy Castiel, asking your crush out with a spotify playlist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 06:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12249249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allantwitty/pseuds/allantwitty
Summary: Dean, a bagger at the local grocery store, and Castiel, a shy librarian, come to get to know each other in the short moments they find themselves sharing at Castiel's weekly trips to Dean's place of work.





	To Feel No Shame

**Author's Note:**

  * For [its_a_religion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_a_religion/gifts).



> For Sophie, who I love. <3
> 
> title from dog by scott matthew.

                The first time Cas sees him is on a day filled with light rain; the kind that just sits on your clothes rather than soaking in and drenching you. The kind that barely makes a noise when it hits the ground but still darkens the sky.

                He’s in the grocery store, looking for an open aisle, when his eyes lock on the bagger in aisle four. And if he was a person with a flair for the dramatics, he might say this guy is the human embodiment of sunshine or something.

                His feet take him to aisle four without any protest from his brain.

                The guy has freckles, Cas notices as their eyes meet over the conveyor belt. They glow, like seeing constellations in the middle of the day, in a blue afternoon sky.

                He knows this guy has seen hundreds of people— _today_. Hundreds of people more interesting and more attractive and more memorable than Cas.

                He knows he’s nothing special. It’s a facet of his being as mundane and unassuming as the fact that he has dark hair. That he’s six feet tall. That he has blue eyes.

                He’s nothing special.

                So he leaves his earbuds in, the ones he uses to block out the world when he has to be in it, letting music play over his polite smiles, the cashier’s _That’ll be $48.66_ , and the sound of the rain.

                ***

                He comes back to the store a week later.

                He comes back to his aisle, too.

                He decides to take one earbud out this time, to be polite, of course, but also out of some stupid hope that maybe he’ll exchange a few words with the bagger.

                “Hi, how are you?” he asks with what looks like a genuine smile. He’s sure he has to deal those out to everyone, though. Cas has the wherewithal to look down at his nametag; _Dean_.

                “I’m fine,” Cas replies to Dean.

                And then he immediately berates himself, because he was supposed to say _I’m fine, how are_ you _?_ That’s how conversations work.

                Dean doesn’t seem to think anything of it; his eyes, that Can can now see are a bright, moss green, are focused on the groceries. His freckles dance on his cheeks. His dimples crease beside his lips as he concentrates.

                He puts his earbud back in as he shakes his head.

                “That’ll be $78.92,” the cashier says.

                He pays, not making eye contact with either of them. As he’s about to leave, he hears a sweet, deep voice in his left ear, over the low music.

                “Do you need some help out?”

                He breathes in slowly, his throat working around words. He needs to get it right this time.

                “No thank you.” A murmur, too soft, but as good of a reply as he can muster.

                Dean smiles at him. “Have a nice day.”

                He blinks. He doesn’t smile back.

                ***

                He doesn’t like frozen pizza. The cheese tastes of a poor imitation of plastic; the sauce like burnt ketchup.

                He thinks he’ll try a vegan pizza. It’s leagues more expensive, but he reasons that that likely means it’ll taste better, and it’s still cheaper than ordering out.

                He just gets one, one with spinach and olives on top. It’s almost ten dollars.

                He goes into Dean’s aisle again; he takes out one earbud again.

                Dean chuckles as he puts the pizza into a bag, and Cas looks at him with wide, curious eyes.

                “It’s just—my brother loves these things. He’s a newly converted vegan and he flipped when he found out we sold vegan pizza here.”

                He thinks of what he’s supposed to say to that. “I’m not a vegan,” is what he comes up with.

                Dean just raises his eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

                “I just—I hate frozen pizza.”

                “Ah, so you thought you’d try an expensive one and it’d taste better?”

                He snorts softly, curving one corner of his mouth up. “Yes,” he admits.

                Dean smiles down at the bags as he continues to pack up his groceries. “Gonna be honest, I think vegan pizza tastes like cardboard.”

                He hums thoughtfully. “We’ll see.”

                “Do you need help out?” Dean asks as Cas is about to push his cart away. He still has a soft smile on his face.

                Cas _almost_ smiles back.

                “No thank you.”

                ***

                “How was that vegan pizza?”

                He swallows, working around the lump in his throat. So Dean remembers him.

                “It tasted...pretentious,” he says dryly, the closest to a joke he’s been in a while.

                Dean chuckles, his eyes lighting up with life under the harsh fluorescents. “I assumed as much. My brother’s pretty pretentious. And I don’t trust his opinion on food, not since he asked me to put marshmallow fluff in his mac and cheese.”

                Cas grimaces, his face twisting of its own volition. “That sounds vile.”

                “He was young so I don’t hold it against him,” Dean says, a gentle cadence to his voice. “You should try the Party Pizzas. They’re like, a buck, but they’re pretty good. Surprisingly.”

                “A pizza that costs one dollar is good? I find that highly implausible,” he says, before feeling surprised with himself at the ease with which he’s speaking.

                He’s not going to question it, though. He’s going to revel in it, milk it for all it has.

                “Cheap things can still be good, you know. Ever heard of Ramen?”

                “Of course I have.”

                Dean smiles. “Here, there’s no line—go get one.”

                He frowns, but is too surprised to decline. He blinks, and Dean gestures with his eyes for him to get going.

                So he walks through the mostly empty store, one earbud out, until he’s at the end of the frozen food aisle. Picking up one _Party Pizza_ , his heart racing, he walks back to the checkout lane. Dean is waiting for him with bright eyes.

                “I think you’ll like it.”

                ***

                “So?”

                He purses his lips, debating, as he looks at Dean. He doesn’t feel good today; he doesn’t feel like talking to anyone, even Dean. Both earbuds are still in. He knows Dean is being sincere though; he genuinely wants to know how Cas felt about the pizza. Because that’s the kind of person he is, Cas knows already.

                “It was fine,” he finally says, voice clipped. He doesn’t know how to make it better though.

                Dean nods his head once after staring at him for longer than necessary.

                “Cool,” Cas sees him say.

                They don’t make eye contact again. When Dean asks him if he needs help out to his car, Cas pretends he doesn’t hear him.

                ***

                Cas is pretty sure after the way he treated him last time they saw each other, Dean will be less receptive to him today.

                _Or_ it’s possible their interactions mean nothing to Dean, and he won’t act any way whatsoever.

                He’ll just do his job, like usual.

                Cas can’t stop himself from going into his lane, though. Or taking out one earbud.

                Dean’s face visibly brightens when he notices him, and he tries to tell himself that means nothing. It’s probably just nice to see a familiar face between the mundane aspects of his job.

                If his face could be considered _familiar_ , that is.

                “Hey,” Dean says kindly.

                “Hello,” he replies, with a soft smile.

                They say nothing more, but Cas still looks at him every few seconds. He alternates his eyes between the cashier and Dean to make himself less obvious.

                “So you did like them,” Dean says, sounding amused. Cas looks down and sees him packing up two Party Pizzas.

                “Oh, yes,” he admits with a shy grin. “I, um. I got two this time because they’re quite small. But they are, admittedly, the best frozen pizza I’ve had. Better than the one ten times its price.”

                “Hey, man, if I can turn just _one_ person off of rabbit food, I’ll have done my job. Looks like I can quit now.”

                He chuckles, surprised, and their eyes stay locked for a beat.

                “Do you need any help out?” Dean asks, as always.

                “No thank you, Dean,” he says, before he can stop himself.

                Dean’s eyes perk up when he says that, as if he’s taken aback that he used his name. “I’ll see you around...?”

                He trailed off, like he was asking a question. Is he asking for his name?

                “Oh, I’m Castiel,” he says faintly.

                Dean makes a face in wonder. “Huh,” he murmurs. “A memorable name for a memorable dude.”

                His eyes widen.

                “Um. Goodbye, Dean,” is all he says.

                ***

                He returns two days later. He takes both earbuds out.

                “Hey, Cas,” Dean says with a bright smile.

                “Hello, Dean.”

                “So are you in school or something? You seem to have the diet of a college student,” he comments as he puts Cas’s things into a bag. He thinks he’s imagining the fact that Dean is moving slower than usual; Cas has less groceries than usual.

                Coincidence. Moot point. Two completely unrelated facts. Whatever you want to call it.

                “No, I work at the library,” Cas tells him.

                “You’re a librarian,” Dean says back. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

                Cas huffs and looks at the cashier, who’s holding out his receipt already.

                “Oh, sorry,” he mutters, taking it from her hand.

                “Do you need help out to your car?” Dean asks softly, and Cas smiles. Because he only bought four things. They all fit in one bag.

                “Yes, please.”

                ***

                Cas starts to learn things about Dean every few days. They talk while he bags up Cas’s groceries, and they talk on the way out to his car, and they talk while Dean meticulously places the bags into his trunk.

                He learns that Dean is in his last year of college. That he’s majoring in business. That his brother’s name is Sam. That he loves pie (“but not the ones the bakery _here_ makes,” he shudders). That his favorite movie is Star Wars. That he gets melodramatically offended when someone says they haven’t seen it (someone = Cas).

                Dean learns things about him too. He tells Cas it’s like pulling teeth, getting stuff out of him, but “ _just call me a dentist, Cas_ ”. Whatever that means.

                He learns that Cas got a job at the library in high school, and he has no plans to leave it any time soon. That he’s an only child, but is close with his young cousin, Claire. That he loves burgers. That he’s been over one hundred dollars over his grocery budget in the last month. That he loves musicals.

                Cas likes every conversation they have, but his favorite has to be one near the end of November.

                “So what are you always listenin’ to when you walk around the store?” Dean asks him as he packs up Cas’s trunk.

                “Music.”

                Dean rolls his eyes. “Pulling teeth,” he mutters.

                Cas snorts. “I listen to a lot of different genres and styles of music, Dean.”

                “You have Spotify? Wait, what am I saying, you probably think that’s some kind of, like, contagious disease or something.”

                It’s Cas’s turn to roll his eyes. “I know what Spotify is, Dean. And yes, I have it.”

                “We should follow each other,” Dean says quietly. “If you want to check out the music I like, that is.”

                Cas smiles softly as Dean closes his trunk, the door slamming shut. “I’d like that.”

                Dean’s eyes light up, the sun hitting his face and making his freckles glow on his cheeks. “Yeah?”

                “Yes, that sounds nice. I love finding new music.” He doesn’t mention how he’d do pretty much anything to be connected to Dean in some way. And since he’s too shy to ever ask for his number...

                “’Kay. My last name is Winchester, so just look me up and follow me and I’ll follow you back.”

                “Okay. I will.”

                “Okay.”

                “Goodbye, Dean.”

                “Bye, Cas.”

                ***

                Dean’s playlists are...interesting, to say the least.

                For one, it consists of way more Taylor Swift than Cas thought any one person could listen to.

                But there’s other things too, like musical soundtracks and old, classic rock. None of it really fits together, and that’s what makes it so interesting.

                He scrolls down all of the playlists, and when he gets to the very last one, his jaw drops. His mind stops. His brain halts. His...you get the idea.

                Because there, at the bottom of the list, is a playlist just titled, _cas_.

                Does he click it? Was he supposed to see that one? Did Dean forget to make it private?

                Does he _want_ him to look at it?

                He doesn’t have Dean’s number or anything, so he has no choice but to just go with his gut.

                He clicks it.

                He reads through the titles, and none of them seem very familiar. A couple are, but...wait.

                Wait.

                The first song is called, _Hey_ by Pixies.

                The next one, _Castle_ by Halsey.

                The next one, _How Are You Doing?_ by The Living Sisters.

                They keep going. And Cas loses his breath the further and further he gets down the list.

                _I Just Wanted You To Know_ – Mark Chesnutt

                _Something Good_ – alt-J

                _Something Real_ – Blackbear

                _I Like You_ – Ben Rector

                _I Like You A Lot_ – Jake Owen

                _I Was Wondering_ – Last Night’s Ghost

                _If You Wanted To Go_ – Mexico

                _Outside_ – Calvin Harris

                _With Me_ – Sum 41

                _Because_ – The Beatles

                _As Previously Stated_ – Youth Music Theatre Scotland

                _I Really Like You_ – Carly Rae Jepsen

                _Okay_ – Shiba San

                _That’s All_ – Mauwe

                _Talk To You Soon_ – Silver Liz

                _Hopefully_ – Jagged Edge

                He takes a deep breath, double checks to make sure Dean is following him back, and makes his own playlist. He calls it, _dean_.

                He only puts one song in it.

                _Yes_ – Beyoncé


End file.
